


COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

by Queenoftheuniverse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Knifeplay, M/M, Scary, Swearing, Vampire activities, bloody blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenoftheuniverse/pseuds/Queenoftheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires have announced they are real and Sherlock is completely suspicious of their motives. </p><p>He has no idea he has been living with one for two years. </p><p>John is a vampire sure, but he also secretly plays violin in a goth band called "The Dying Brides". </p><p>When Sherlock discovers both secrets he is unsure which revelation shocks him more, Johns undead status or the lipstick he wears on stage....</p><p>And what the hell has got into Lestrade, he is following John around like a lost puppy for fucks sake!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. OUT OF THE COFFIN

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock has no idea John is a Vampire yet. Or a goth violin player.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

____________________________

"SUNDAY TELEGRAPH 

Sunday the 4th of May

THE GREAT VAMPIRE REVEAL-one month in-

In the four weeks since the human race was made aware of the existence of vampires, how have humans coped? 

Reports of humans being drained and left for dead have been quashed as rumours and members of the Vampire Union have worked tirelessly to ease the introduction of the vampires into the human population. 

In fact reports of Human on Vampire violence is the main concern from police stations through out Britain and some of the other first world countries-"

____________________________

 

Sherlock Holmes snorted and threw the newspaper onto the ground. John looked up from his blog.

"Sherlock, problem?" he asked gently.

"This vampire nonsense...." Sherlock said, waving one of his hands in derision.

"Oh?" John said, lifting one eyebrow. Sherlock glared. John had been quite nonplussed since the Outing of the Undead....actually, no, the first few days he had locked himself in his room until Sherlock assured him no bloodsuckers were going to burst into the flat and drain him from the neck until he was but a husk. 

"Yes....these vampires, John." Sherlock went on. "They have been out of the coffin, as they say, for a month and I have yet to..."

"What, meet one?" John teased. "Should they have come to the Great Sherlock Holmes already, begging his assistance on some case or another?"

"John, please, what makes you so sure I have not met with one?"

"Well I am sure your brother will introduce you soon enough." John went on, still teasing. "I bet he's met loads. Worked with them for years without knowing. I always thought The Iron Lady was a bit peaky...."

"John, do shut up." Sherlock snapped, making John dip his head to hide his smile.

"Wondering how they hid from you for so long?" he asked then, keeping his voice as serious as he could.

"No! John, no...I would have known they were here if I had even thought for one second those stupid Bram Stoker and Anne Rice stories were true!" Sherlock spat, throwing himself down on the sofa with a dramatic flounce.

"Oh of COURSE Sherlock." John said, eyes glinting.

"John, please...don't do that. Don't....doubt me." Sherlock said, voice low.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry. " John apologised, all mirth gone. "Then what is it? What's the problem?

"What are they planning, what are they hiding, what are they up to?" Sherlock asked rhetorically, tenting his hands under his chin in his classic thinking pose.

"The vampires?" 

"Yes, John. The vampires! Why have they come out now? What is the point?"

"Oh now surely you can deduce that Sherlock." John said, deadpan.

"John...you have a theory?" Sherlock sat up and stared at his friend with rodent-bright eyes. He leaned forward. "Please, enlighten me..."

"Its quite simple." John smiled. "They were bored...."

#


	2. THE DYING BRIDES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock follows John and discovers kinks. Also, for a clever man, Sherlock can be a bit arrogant, which leads to obliviousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my good lord why does real life interfere with writing???????????

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER TWO

DYING BRIDES

"John! You have blood on you!" Sherlock cried, crossing the room to Johns side. John fend the over enthusiastic detective off with his hands, but not before the detective swiped at the red smudge left on Johns throat. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and John swiftly turned away.

"It's not-" John began, but Sherlock finished the sentence for him.

"It's not real blood!" his clever friend exclaimed.

John smiled ironically, and made his way to the kitchen for a cup of tea. 

Sherlock followed, sniffing him. Leather, sweat and rosin. As he already knew.

"John, why do you have fake blood on your throat?"

"Better than real blood."

"Jesus John, in this day and age, you make a joke like that?" Sherlock said, astonished.

John shrugged, and set the jug to boil.

"John.....where have you been?"

"Why do you need to know everything Sherlock?" John sighed. He was tired and a little hungry.

"It's my nature John...."

Truth was though, Sherlock knew exactly where John had been tonight, and every Saturday night for the last few weeks. Because curiosity had killed him, and he had broken and followed John tonight...

To the newly renamed Vamp Club. (Vampires were all the rage now, so the old name "GoGo Club" was vetoed to cash in on the trend.)

And not for drinks. 

For the band. 

And not to listen. 

To play in it. 

In the two years Sherlock had known John the doctor had never EVER asked to borrow Sherlocks quite spectacular Stradivarius. And tonight Sherlock saw John playing a violin, his own, which he had hidden. Hidden from Sherlock Holmes. And Sherlock Holmes had never found it. He could now, of course, now he knew it existed. It was a simple matter of a post box near the club. But he considered John a friend. They had shared so much. Why had John kept this from him? And why did Sherlock never even suspect?

And of course...there was the increasingly confusing trouser tightness after seeing John in leather tonight...

_________________________

THREE HOURS EARLIER

Sherlock, dressed as a fashionable 'fang banger' in tight black clothes, hair tied back in a pony tail, dark rimmed glasses and skin extra paled, stood at the back of the club, nursing his one drink. He fit in with the other presumably fake vamps quite well. He had even put on black lipstick and over-kholed his eyes. He actually looked like delicious Vamp Bait but figured he could protect himself from actual vamps in a public place like this. 

(He would have been soooooo wrong but none of the actual vamps in the room were stupid enough to come here un-fed.)

The band onstage was called The Dying Brides. The lead singer was in a white lace brides dress with big Doc Martins on her feet. The guitarist and keyboardist were also in lacy brides dresses. The drummer and bass guitarist were in tuxedos, bow ties but no shirt, and...

The violinist was John Fucking Watson.

Sherlock simply could not take his eyes off his friend. He assumed it was because John was the antethis of all he had portrayed until now. The jumper wearing snugly kitten man with a slight bold edge, fluffy hair and kind eyes, all gone. He was now a tight leather jeans wearing, pale skinned, shirtless, leather vest, black choker, spikey-haired red lipsticked Violinist for the band, and he was sexy as fuck. Just his eyelined eyes alone were enough to make the saliva in Sherlocks mouth dry up.

But there was a predatory aura about him too, that Sherlock had never seen. He was lithe and springy and, even without connecting his eyes with any member of the vast crowd, he had them spell bound. He was also master of his instrument. Fingers and arms rippling in a mildly skin heating, blood-pumping way.

Sherlock had a funny feeling wash over him, like ice water, and, by process of elimination, he realised he was jealous. He didn't like members of the crowd looking at his Sexy Ethereal John, especially those silly women dressed in long flowing gowns and fake fangs, throwing their breasts at him.... 

But what made Sherlocks brain overheat was a violin solo in a trance-like version of Abbas' Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie (A Man After Midnight). John, eyes closed and hips thrust forward, tilted his head back and, as he sawed a long note from the instrument, the lead singer stepped behind him and dragged a knife along his neck, as if Johns throat were making the keening sound and not his instrument. Fake blood came from the choker, which Sherlock now realised John had worn for just this affect. The sight of John, bleeding, swaying and that knife to his throat....

Sherlock had pushed out of the crowded bar, his own mind chasing after him, screaming "Look! Look at all the kinks you don't know you had all wrapped in one man!"

He was still shaking when he got home.

_____________________________

"Sherlock, stop staring at me." John said as he sipped his tea. Sherlock, eyes all squinty, was not aware he had been staring at John. Or rather, he didn't realise John would notice the extra scrutiny.

"John....were you ever going to tell me?"

John almost dropped his tea cup in surprise.

"I...um...well, I thought...eventually....you would deduce it." John stammered.

"Eventually I did." Sherlock answered.

"Look, I want you to know, you are safe of course..."

"Obviously." Sherlock snorted. " I have natural talent and a violin made by Stradivarius."

"What....oh...yes..." John nodded, and Sherlock slitted his eyes again. Why did he just get the feeling he and John had meant two different things.....

#


	3. LOOK INTO MY EYES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade smells good enough to eat....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampires. Yum. That is all.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

THREE

LOOK INTO MY EYES

Lestrade took two strides towards Sherlock before John intervened, using his own body to stop Lestrades progress.

"I know, I sometimes want to sock him one myself."John said, gently putting his hand to Greg's chest. Greg looked down into Watsons eyes...

And was lost...

The crime scene was grizzly, of course, body parts everywhere, and Sherlock was simply talking aloud when he commented about "Typical Italians", but Lestrade was tired from long hours, stressed at another whole family slaughter, suspicious of his wife and the PE instructor that worked at the same school she taught at and lonely. So damn lonely.

Sherlock was not actually being racist, for him it was about statistics, but Lestrade had wanted to smash Sherlock as much as he wanted to smash whomever had killed and ripped apart this family.

"Greg, you don't want to do this." John said, voice low and soft.

"I don't want to, no." Greg agreed amicably. When had Johns eyes gotten so pretty?

"You won't hurt Sherlock of course." Johns hand was warm on his shirt.

"No, of course not John." Gregs head shook side to side, slowly, eyes never leaving Johns.

"Let him work."

"Yes John."

John let the DI go then, Greg sighed, ran his hand through his hair and grinned a lopsided grin at John.

"How was your weekend John?" he asked, casually. John noticed the DI stood closer to him than normal but let him. He smelled good. He smelled rich and heady. He smelled yummy.

"The usual." John shrugged, watching as Sherlock crawled on all fours to get a close up of the hair on the dead wife.

"Come for a drink with me tonight?" Greg asked then, all in a rush.

John finally understood. He turned to Greg. Searched the deep brown eyes of his friend. Ah good fuckaloo....he had fucking thralled Greg Lestrade!

John quirked his head, like a gecko with his eyes on a spider.

"Sure Greg. I would love to." He said. He had not meant to thrall the Detective Inspector but his baser nature must have noticed what his everyday persona had not. That Greg smelled good enough to eat.

"Awesome!" Greg grinned and became boyish in his glee. John returned the smile and wondered just how tasty Greg's blood would be, given to him with permission. The Vamp Council frowned upon Thrall donations but John shrugged. Greg was gorgeous and with any luck his blood would taste like wine and rainbows.

John became aware of Sherlocks hot gaze upon him and met his friends eyes with a smile.

"Found anything Sherlock?"

"I have discovered a great many things." he said, face flat. "Lestrade, if you could tear yourself away from my blogger for a minute, I have some things I require."

Greg shook himself and stepped to Sherlock, leaving John to turn and walk away. 

Sherlocks eyes followed him. 

Then, as John chatted happily to the local beat cop who had found the butchered family, Sherlock took a good look at Greg.

"I had no idea you liked John that way." he said. Lestrade shrugged.

"He's a good bloke. I like him." Greg said.

"You asked him on a date."

"Drinks, Sherlock. Not the same thing."

"You want him." Sherlock stated, and Greg Lestrade blushed. "Oh good lord....you WANT him."

"Sherlock, mind your own damn business." Lestrade snapped then, blush increasing. "As far as I am aware John is a free agent!"

"And as far as I was aware you are heterosexual." Sherlock snapped back, anger and jealousy at war in him. 

What could Greg have that Sherlock did not? Why did John agree to go out to "drinks" with Greg? And since when was John bisexual? Sherlock had only ever seen him with girls...and now, he wanted to date Greg? Oh...wait...Greg thought it was a date, John only thought it was drinks...

Sherlock sighed. 

He would have to follow Greg and John on their date tonight in a new disguise he had been dying to try out...and it was only to protect John of course...not to make sure John and Greg did not get together and push Sherlock aside before the detective ever got to know what those leather clad thighs and plush red lips felt like...

Sherlock shook himself.

"I have three theories. Give me a quiet five minutes and I will have the final one..."

#


	4. OH MY GLOB YOU GUYS, JOHN IS A VAMPIRE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock follows John and Greg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted more mention of fangs in this but the muse wanted to be all ethereal and shit.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER FOUR

OH MY GA-GA, JOHN IS A VAMPIRE!

Greg took John to his favourite pub. It was full to bursting with football fans and had a loud cheery atmosphere. Greg looked gorgeous in a pair of tight black jeans, tight white t-shirt and black leather jacket. His hair was all over the place and he looked way different to his on-the-job persona.

John looked adorably sweet on a plaid button down, blue jeans and lovely grey cardi. His eyes popped in reflection of the grey and Greg was proud to have him across from him at the tall bar table.

In the corner was Sherlock in a red ManU hoody, black hair slicked to the side and eyes a deep brown. The best thing about the disguise was rowdy ManU mates and a pint half drunk in front of him. His accent was Manchersturian and his enthusiasm was so good it really appeared that he cared who had scored. He even got a round in.

But his eyes were all over John and Greg.

They appeared to be having a good time. John laughed at Greg's jokes, and Greg returned the favour. They made their way through a steady stream of drinks, Greg slowly getting dizzy but John strangely alert and upright. Sherlock had already fed the fake ficus enough beer to make a real plant die but his "mates" never noticed. 

Eventually he pretended to be pleasantly pissed, threw some money on the table and went to "take a leak."

This was because Watson and Lestrade had stood, ready to go. Greg slid his jacket on and John laughingly held him up.

"You're pissed mate!" John laughed. Greg shook his head.

"Just need fresh air."

"Lovely night for a walk." John agreed, and they left the pub.

Sherlock turned his hoody inside out in the toilets. It was now a black hoody. He removed the brown contacts as they somewhat restricted his view and ruffled his hair. The hood covered most of his face in shadow and he shimmied like an eel from the loo window, landing sure footed in the alley below. 

John and Greg were on the street in front of the alley mouth, crossing in a zig zag due to Greg being so tipsy. Sherlock could hear Johns hearty laugh from where he was hiding.

He followed the stumbling pair quietly.

They made good progress until they got to a very dark alley. John guided Greg down it and Sherlock became suspicious of the good doctors motives. Was he going to take advantage of Lestrade? Was a dark alley snog a kink of Johns? Because this alley was not a short cut to either his flat nor Greg's.

Sherlock nipped around a building, climbed the fire escape, crossed the roof and peered down into the alley below. John had Lestrade up against the wall and was snogging the detective good and proper. Sherlock clenched his jaw and descended the ladder into the alley, still unseen, and propped himself behind a dumpster, deep in the shadows, to watch.

Greg could be heard moaning into Johns mouth, and John held the detective by his hips. They were almost the same height but for some reason, John appeared taller. He was definitely the more dominate and insistent of the two men and Greg was happy to follow. Sherlock could see tongues and jaws working and he flushed to realise his prick was reacting with interest. He squeezed himself a little, but that most definitely did not help.

He was just contemplating pretending to be a mugger to break the men apart, when suddenly John peeled Lestrade from the wall and turned the Detective Inspectors back to Sherlock. Greg tossed his head back as John slid Greg's leather jacket and bit of T-shirt off one shoulder. Sherlock could see him working his lips over the flesh of Greg's neck, under his ear. Gregs wonton moan sent a spark into Sherlocks pants and he bit his lip to stop from gasping.

Suddenly, John clamped the silver haired man to him, bent him back in a slight bow. Greg's head fell right back, and his toes bearly touched the ground. John appeared to grow taller in the dull light of the alley and then...

He bit Greg Lestrades hot and throbbing jugular vein. 

Sherlock blinked.

John Watson was biting Gregs neck and...yes, sucking on the blood that welled there. Sucking so enthusiastically Sherlock could HEAR it, a wet slurping sound, mixed with Gregs moans and under it all, the desperate sound of a hungry vampire feasting on the most delicious blood he had ever tasted.

Sherlocks heart nearly stopped.

John...was a vampire!

Sixteen dozen thoughts hit the genius brain all at once. Why hadn't he known or suspected? How long, how had he been turned, what did he live on, could he fly, did he run from garlic...were his fangs retractable, did he have to drain a human a night, could he eat human food....

And oh, what would it feel like to bare his throat to John and beg him to take what he needed.

Where had that thought come from?

Just as the idea of being Johns donor flitted through his mind Johns eyes opened and he lifted them to meet Sherlocks in a smoky gaze. He stared at Sherlock, knew he was there, had known all along. His eyes were black, and heavy hooded with lust. Blood lust and sex lust, whatever it was it made Sherlock actually whimper.

John tore his mouth from the bloodied neck of Greg Lestrade and licked at the holes, never taking his eyes off Sherlock. Greg moaned long and lustily, rutting against Johns thigh. John smiled, still staring at Sherlock, and whispered into Gregs ear. Greg shivered and nodded, and John let him go in a rush. The poor man staggered, hand to his neck, and lent against the wall, before straightening his clothes and wandering off down the alley, singing lustily and drunkly.

Then suddenly John was on Sherlock, had the detective clamped to his body with arms like steel bands. He was kissing him, lips hard and insistent, Gregs blood smearing across their lips, blinding Sherlock with a lust so instant he almost blacked out. His fingers scrabbled at Johns elbows but the lust and pain distracted him.

And then the alley was sinking below him as John rose into the air with him, still kissing him and sucking on his tongue, and pulling on his bottom lip until Sherlocks mind became a whirlwind of fire and ice and the coppery taste of another mans blood seeping over his teeth and down his throat.

#


	5. JOHNS SECRET VAMPIRE LAIR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock proves too damn tempting for Vampire John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I have always quite liked Maggie. Don't hate on me.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER FIVE

JOHNS SECRET VAMPIRE LAIR

Sherlock struggled awake. He was dizzy and confused, but his brain was quickly coming back online, because his brain was smarter than most humans. There was a breeze. It was dawn, he could see out the French doors next to the quite exquisite bed he was lying in. Gossamer curtains fluttered. He could tell by the skyline he was still in London, and this relaxed him some what.

He sat up, groaning.

"Take it easy Sherlock." Came Johns voice from the shadows.

"Christ, what did you do to me?

"Mesmerised you. A bit."

"Oh ah...did you..." Sherlock waved to his neck, looking into the dark where Johns voice was coming from.

"No. Greg was enough for me."

John came out of the shadows still in the grey cardi and jeans he had worn to the pub the night before. He looked small, as small as he normally did. For a split second Sherlock thought he had dreamed last night, but the fact he was somewhere strange and of course, the fact he could recall every single detail up until John kissed him helped.

"Lestrade?" Sherlock asked then.

"Got home safely."

Sherlock nodded.

"Where am I?"

"My lair." John said, and crooked a smile.

"Your lair? Really? But this is the bedroom of an older woman-"

"She had it before me. Actually, she would still have it had she not faked her death some time ago and gone to live in Acapulco."

"Ah, she was...like you?"

"Yes. Vampire."

Sherlock almost snickered. It was funny to hear that word said for real, like it was a real thing, and from John. His blogger, his DOCTOR for fucks sake!

"Vampire....ffffffuck meeee....." he ended up sighing, and stood gently to his feet. He crossed to the open French doors and peered out. "John, am I..." he asked, suddenly recognising where he was.

"Number Ten" John said from beside him, making Sherlock jump. John had slid up to him in silence.

"Downing street!"

"Yes. I told you she looked peaky."

"Margaret Thatcher...." Sherlock sighed. "Hiding in plain sight. And now you...."

John nodded.

"The sunlight!" Sherlock suddenly cried, shielding John from the dawns rays.

"Just a myth." John said, smiling warmly at his friend and reaching out to touch his hoody-clad forearm. He gripped it tightly, reassuringly.

Warm, Sherlock thought. John was warm. John was always warm. 

"What else John...what else is a myth?"

"Garlic and mirrors are no problem." John said. "I don't have to kill to eat. I cannot turn to smoke or bats. Virgin blood is no different to anyone else's. I can fly. I can mesmerise and enthrall with my mind." he smiled then, teeth flat and eyes so much like his blogger that Sherlock felt instantly sad. Things were going to change. And drastically. 

"I don't sleep in a coffin. Don't really sleep at all." John went on. "I will live for a very long time....and....the sex is phenomenal...." he added in a whisper.

"John..." Sherlock said in a low soft voice, trying not to look into Johns eyes, just in  
case. "How..."

John shrugged.

"Afghanistan." was all he said. He dropped Sherlocks arm and flopped, sitting, onto the bed.

"Where you ever going to tell me?" Sherlock asked then.

John shrugged.

"Probably not. Just disappear one day. You would never find me."

"Don't!" Sherlock put his hand out and gripped Johns shoulder. John winced. The wound there was very real but not made from a bullet. From a trio of vampires ready to kill him. Would have too if San Simeon....ah, but that was past history.

"Don't what?" John said, looking up at Sherlock and gently removing the detectives hand.

"Don't just go. At least tell me."

"Well, I never wanted to make that choice. But you were getting close to working it out. The violin was a start." John said. "I always knew you would get me eventually. And isn't it strange I let you?"

"I don't know, is it?"

John nodded.

"The vamp who made me, saved me, he said we should never let humans know. And then the Vamp Council came out to humans and it was okay, but by then I had you just where I wanted you. Cosy. I guess I liked being....underestimated. It helped you. I liked....helping you."

"Does this change us?"

"What do you think Sherlock?" John asked sadly. "You cannot just unknow what you now know. Even if I mesmerise you like I did Greg, a brain like yours would work it out again. So we either work as we did, but you know what I am, or I leave and you...go on, without me."

"I cannot do without my blogger." Sherlock said. He knelt at Johns feet, laying his head on Johns thigh. John carded his hands through Sherlocks beautiful hair.

"Do you know what it would be like Sherlock?"

"I have no idea. All I know is, without being mesmerised, I am drawn to you John. I cannot tell you if its because you are vampire or because you are you, but...I need...you."

John fisted Sherlocks hair at the nape of the detectives neck and bent him back, exposing his vulnerable white throat. Sherlock moaned quietly and may have said yes but perhaps not out loud. To have Johns mouth on him, his lips on his skin, his teeth inside him!

But John did not bite. He put his other hand gently to Sherlocks throat but kissed him softly, passionately on the lips. His thumb stroked over Sherlocks racing pulse, pounding and eager under his hand. He took his time, licking and sliding his tongue over the detectives tongue, pressing his lips urgently against Sherlocks beautiful mouth. And all the time stroking, stroking his thumb over Sherlocks heavily thrumming artery.

"God Sherlock, your blood...it smells so fucking good..."

"John, please, I want you to."

"I can't. I can't!" John moaned into Sherlocks lips, unaware both his hands were now gripping harder. The enticing pull at Sherlocks follicles and the clamping of Johns fingers at his throat thrilled Sherlock and he began to shake with need. His eyes clamped closed and his mouth opened, wet, and panting. He felt his prick harden in his pants and loved it, giving himself to John like this, the loss of control, the strength in Johns body. It was delicious!

"Oh please John, please, use me!"

"No, Sherlock, don't say that..." John whispered into Sherlocks ear, hands clamping tighter at Sherlocks hair and throat, bending the detective backwards, unaware how strong he was at that moment. Sherlocks whole body went slack and he offered up his throat.

"John....." was all he could say. He could barely breathe.

"I want to, Christ I want to drain you Sherlock. The taste of you on my lips...drinking you down. God, you would taste soooo fucking gooooood...." John moaned deeply.

Sherlock sobbed, his whole body alive and shaking. He had never ever wanted like this before, not even when he was itching to score. 

"Please please please please..."

John roared suddenly and was gone in a puff of cold, icy wind. Sherlock dropped to the floor next to Maggie Thatchers bed and cried out in despair.

"John!"

"No Sherlock, no no no!" came Johns voice from somewhere above him. John was in the rafters. He would have been out into the day but he didn't want to desert his friend. 

"John, please, I want this!

"No!"

"But...why?"

"Because if I start, you bastard, I would not ever stop until I had drained every last drop. You are too tempting Sherlock, it would be..."

"No no, John, you wouldn't..you wouldn't." Sherlock chanted but truth was, he didn't know. All he knew was he needed John to feed off him.

"I'd kill you! Damn you Sherlock Holmes, I would fucking kill you!"

And then, he did fly out the window and into the dawn, leaving Sherlock alone and crying pitifully into Margaret Thatchers rug.

#


	6. MYCROFT TASTES YUMMY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmm, hot Holmes blood....how can Hot Vamp John resist?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I leik kittehs. That is all.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER SIX

MYCROFT TASTES YUMMY

John spent a good half an hour away from Sherlock, sitting on Big Ben and thinking. Big Ben was a fantastic place to just chill. Sometimes other vamps went there. Sometimes they chatted, most of the time they ignored each other. This morning, though, John was alone with his thoughts.

Eventually his heart stopped pounding with need and he flew, glimmered from humans, back to his Lair. Sherlock was where he had left him.

"John...."

"Hush, sleep." John said, and put the "sleep" on Sherlock. All that involved was using his fingertips to gently stroke Sherlocks face. Sherlocks eyes closed instantly. John wrapped the man in his arms and Sherlock sighed. 

John used a Glimmer on both of them this time to hide them from mortal eyes and flew them back to Baker street unseen.

Once Sherlock was situated on the couch, sleepy but safe, John left and went to work. His work at the clinic helped centre him. He was a doctor before he was a vampire, and he was still a doctor. The everyday woes of your average human were a good distraction, and his vampire patients (mainly booster shots against anaemia from eating rats to refrain from eating humans) were a good way to keep touch with his vampire community.

He received a txt after lunch.

"I don't deal well with rejection"-SH

John refused to answer. Sherlock thought he knew everything, and yes, he was a genius, but in this, had really had no idea what he was dealing with.

Later, however, another txt came through.

"Wht am I if not ur food?"-SH

Okay that was weird. Since when did Sherlock misspell a txt? And the question was just rude.

"Sherlock, you just have to trust I know more in this case. Just on this one subject. Back off. "-JW

"no Jon I know wt I need"- SH

John groaned. He had a sudden insight.

"Are you high?"- JW

It took a while for Sherlock to answer.

"Sry Jon was laffing loud for long. not high drnk. Perhaps I will tempt you now I am pickld"- SH

John signed

"Are you home?"- JW

"Ys"- SH 

John made his excuses to Sarah at the desk and travelled by cab back to Baker street. He could have flown but he was seriously trying to blend in and be human. He had already flown and fed and thralled and glimmered too much in one day to be comfortable.

He thundered up the stairs to the open door of his flat. He sniffed suddenly. Someone else was here!

Sherlock was splayed against the couch, on the floor, one leg under him, arms out cruciform on the couch cushions behind him. His hair was a mess, dipping into his eyes as his head seemed too heavy to hold up, and an empty bottle of very expensive red wine had tipped over by his knee.

Standing over him in a very nicely tailored suit was his handsome auburn haired brother Mycroft.

"I understand you are the reason my brother is...incapacitated." he said in a haughty voice.

"What has he told you?"

"He said he made a pass and you rejected him." Mycroft said. "Doctor Watson, my brother very rarely falls for anyone. I fail to understand why you said no. He is very attractive and, he is, to use the vernacular, a 'goer'."

"Mycroft, this is unusual for you, but you only have half the story." John tried.

"Oh yes, something about you not actually being gay." Mycroft flapped his hand in a dismissive gesture that frazzled Johns feathers. He beat the feeling down though. Mycroft was nothing to him, really, but Sherlocks pretty older brother.

"Mycroft, I can look after him if you have other places to be."he hinted. Subtly.

"No, I shall take him to my house. I can get my personal physician to look over him."

"Nooooohhhhh." Sherlock moaned, rolling his head and his eyes to stare balefully up at his brother. "No Mycroft, he'll hurt me again."

"He only hurt you last time because you fought him." Mycroft said. "Hold back and do as you are told this time and you will be fine." he bent to grab one of Sherlock upper arms, to help his inebriated brother to his feet.

"No! John, don't let him-" Sherlock fought to free his arm from Mycroft's pinchy grip.

"He said no Mycroft." John said, aware his voice had lowered. 

"Sherlock, don't make me use the needle on you." Mycroft hissed, putting his hand to his jacket pocket. Johns vampire senses smelled morphine and saw a the shape of a capped syringe. 

"Don't do this to me Mycroft, please!" Sherlock begged, trying to scrabble his feet under him. His head flopped back and his eyes looked terrified. John had no idea what had gone on between these two but Sherlock looked genuinely frightened.

"Mycroft, stop!" John roared, aware now his preternatural voice had bubbled up his throat. Mycroft did not even look up at him, just put his arm out to stop John from coming any closer.

"Back off, Doctor Watson." he said, calm as you please. But John couldn't back off because now, Sherlock was trying to pry Mycrofts hand off him with shaking fingers. He was staring straight at John, begging him with his eyes, and that's how he got to see John Change.

The doctor appeared to grow taller. His skin blanched so pale his veins stood out like lines on a road map. His eyes turned from a pleasant blue to a fierce red and from his dark red mouth grew long, shiny, gleaming white fangs. He made a frightening sound and flicked Mycroft from Sherlock as if he were nothing but a bug. Mycroft whirled, jacket fanning, and staggered, staring in horror at the beast before him.

"Doctor Watson! YOU???" he asked, in disbelief. He was a liaison between humans and vampires but he had never suspected, was never told, that John was a vampire. A vampire living with his own brother!

John had nothing to say. With a growl he was on Mycroft, holding him still, ripping into the mans jugular. Mycroft screamed and then the scream shut off and John hoovered the blood from the politicians open neck. It was glorious, so long since he had taken a human in anger, and the fear tinge to the blood was like spice and fire. He slid his hand through the silky strands of hair at the back of Mycrofts gorgeous head and clamped him to his mouth, slavering in almost orgasmic glee.

Weak fingers were gripping him. It was Sherlock, begging him to stop, not to kill his brother. John made himself pull back, licked Mycrofts neck closed and dropped the man to the ground like a broken doll. Alive.

"John.... god John, did you kill him?"

"Not dead." John growled, unaware of the gruesome sight he presented to Sherlock. Fangs still out, eyes still red, pink tongue darting out to catch the last of Mycrofts delicious blood. "But he won't remember."

"Why John....?"

"He was scaring you. He was going to hurt you!"

"No John, I know why you did this..." Sherlocks eyes rolled drunkenly from Mycrofts still form to Johns thrumming body above him. "Why...did you eat HIM, and not ME?"

John cocked his head, confused. His fangs slid back and his eyes faded to blue. His cheeks pinked with the infused blood he had filled greedily from Mycroft and he felt alive, full, satisfied. Holmes blood was....ambrosia.

"He's my brother.....we have the same blood....and you tasted him! But not me, John, not me! Why? WHY?"

"You want this?" John indicated the pale and broken body of Mycroft Holmes, barely breathing on the carpet.

Sherlock stared at his brother, and then looked up at John, eyes wet with emotion.

"Oh....Oh God yes..." he whispered, palming his hard cock absent-mindedly. 

John stared in horror at Sherlock.

"You must be joking...."

"Oh God John..."

John shook his head, snatched Mycroft up over his shoulder and leaped for the window.

"Don't go!" Sherlock begged, the hand not busy absently frotting his cock reaching out to John.

"Sherlock, sleep it off. I'll be back. Then we will talk...but be patient!"

And he was gone into the late afternoon sun.

Sherlock slipped back down to the floor and stared at the patch of floor where Mycroft had lain, stupefied at Johns hands, and shivered. 

Not in fear. 

In anticipation.

#


	7. ALL PART OF THE SHOW FOLKS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You run from a Vamp bar dressed as Bait, what do you think will happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wear something delicious' is homage to ibegtodreamanddiffer and her tongue pierced punk!mycroft.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER SEVEN

ALL PART OF THE SHOW FOLKS

Sherlock slept soundly, curled in on himself on the couch, until he jolted awake suddenly. It was dark. A look at his 'phone showed it was 8.30. Where was John? Was Mycroft okay?

On cue, his txt message pinged.

"Meet me at Club Vamp, 10.00." -JW

Sherlock frowned. So public a place, really? Were they actually going to talk? And what of his brother? 

"How is my brother?" -SH

"Alive. Sleeping. I gave him pleasant memories."- JW

Sherlock rolled to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom. Just as he was stripping to get into a nice hot shower his txt pinged again.

"Wear something delicious." -JW

Sherlock cold not help the fission of desire that jolted down his spine. He had just the thing. John would not be able to resist him.

#

When Sherlock got to the club The Dying Brides were onstage. Sherlock mentally smacked himself. Of course this was why John had not come back, and had got Sherlock to meet him here. 

And speaking of John...the man himself was sensuously swaying on stage, dressed in leather trousers again and a leather jacket. No shirt. Choker again, hair spiked and eyes kholed darkly. Black lipstick in a French Bee sting style. He looked gorgeous and Sherlock was stunned to staring.

Johns eyes were closed and he was sawing on his violin as the lead singer jumped about in her lacy brides dress. The song seemed to be some sort of hacked version of Blister in the Sun and John was really enjoying himself. And people were enjoying him...

Sherlock slitted his eyes at the girls and boys down the front, trying to get Johns attention. HIS John, HIS vampire!

Sherlock himself was getting his fair share of attention. He was in tight black trousers and a tighter purple silk shirt, undone one button more than was strictly necessary to accent his long white neck. Vampires liked necks. His was a nice juicy one. He was only trying to attract one particular vampire but if others wanted to look let them. Maybe John would get jealous and dive from the stage.... 

Sherlocks hair was nicely curled and tangled, and he had sprayed Armani over himself in a gentle spray. He knew humans found the scent pleasant but he deliberately didn't put any scent on his skin, especially at his throat and wrists, the traditional snacking place for vampires. He was as Bait as he could be, and he knew it.

Onstage, John had finished his violin solo and the band were launching into another song. The lights were dimmed and all that could be heard was the slow build of the keyboard. Then the drums joined in and, as the lights came up, both the singer and John were standing with their arms out, heads back. The singer had nothing in her hands, the microphones were a head apparatus, but John had his violin in one hand and his bow in the other.

Sherlocks whole body went warm staring at the handsome body on stage. Johns jacket had parted enough to display him down to his hips and those leather trousers were barely clinging there as it was. A few girls screamed Johns name and Sherlock wanted to slap them. 

Then the bass and guitar started and Sherlock recognised the song from a vampire cult series that had come out way before the vampires did. 

"When you walked in the air went out..." the singer began in a whisper. 

She lowered her head and stared out at the crowd, who were now screaming cos they knew this song well. It was practically the Fang Bangers theme song. The singer then spun a few times, dress flying, until she was was in front of John, whom she clung to, bent over, bared her throat. John left his arms where they were but bent his head, fangs out now, to rest on her neck. The crowd screamed as John lifted his eyes and found Sherlocks.

"Before the night is through...." Johns voice growled, and the crowd screamed. The singer whirled around and froze as John lifted his violin to his chin and pointed the bow at Sherlock. "I wanna do baaaaad things...." he added "To.....YOU." He whispered loudly into his head mic and began to play as the crowd howled. 

The song started in earnest and some of the crowd looked to Sherlock, who was quite frozen. Was John teasing him? Bad things....we're they GOOD bad things or simply bad things, and this song, this Fang Bangers song...oh God, did John think Sherlock was a wanna be vamp fan boy? Was THAT why he wouldn't eat him?

Sherlocks heart beat angrily and he felt quite faint. All sound faded and all he could do was stare at John as he played, moving his sensuous body in that skin tight leather all over the stage as hands grabbed for him, mouths opened and screaming at him. 

Then another thought struck the detective....Perhaps THIS is what John wanted, why he would not snack on Sherlocks neck. He wanted Sherlock to beg and scream and put in fake fangs and spit fake blood...

Sherlock looked down at himself. Was he not dressed Bangy enough? He considered himself gorgeous in this outfit, and John had demanded he wear something delicious...

Then the music came crashing back into his ears then as the last note was played and the crowd was screaming for more. 

Sherlock backed away, so unsure of himself now that he just wanted to run and hide and forget he had ever fallen for John fucking Watson and his deadly vampire wiles! 

He stumbled down the hallway to the toilets, then staggered right past them. He was desperate to get out, where was the exit? There!

He crashed out into the alley and tried to catch his breath a the door slammed closed behind him. 

"Stupid stupid stupid!" he spat at himself, hands in his hair.

"Hello chicky-chicky." a deep voice said above him. Sherlock snapped his head up to see a dark form above him, clinging to the half dead neon sign above the door. White fangs gleamed in the night and Sherlock knew that this was a vampire hanging above him like a deformed fruit bat. "Where are you going so quickly, and smelling..." the vamp sniffed hugely and growled low..."so damn tasty...."

"Home. I am going home." Sherlock said, trying to make his voice steady but he was suddenly terrified.

"Home? But the party has just started chick....don't you wanna play?" The vamp growled above him and Sherlock shivered.

"No...I really don't..."

"Oh come now, that's not true is it chick...dressed like Bait at a Vamp club..." the vampire laughed, and melted into the shadows. Sherlock tried to find the creature in the dark, but he couldn't. He had just simply gone.

A cold wind behind the detective was the only clue he got before hands grabbed him over his mouth and eyes. He struggled but a voice hissed into his ear.

"You got your wish, Bait, now let's go have some fun...."

Sherlocks stomach sank alarmingly as he was launched into the sky, trapped in the arms of this deadly predator. He tried to scream for John, but the hand at his mouth was like a vice. 

He knew, then, he was in the most trouble he had ever been in his life.

#


	8. THE FIRST TEMPTATION OF JOHN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John saves Sherlock...then puts him right back in danger again, the silly muffin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jim is Moriarty.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE FIRST TEMPTATION OF JOHN

Sherlock was warm and sleepy, on his back, arms up by his head, cradled in the softness of a feather bedspread laid out beneath him. He had been flung there by the demented fruit bat Vampire and was now unable to move. He had no idea why. He didn't care. He felt sleepy but okay. Thinking hurt so he stopped.

Someone pressed against his thigh and he gave a small sigh. That felt nice. 

"Oh chikcy, so hard for me already." A voice purred, nuzzling at Sherlocks prick which was rock hard in his trousers. "You're a little bite slut aren't you?"

Sherlock nodded softly, parting his thighs to allow more access. Through eyes half lidded and curls of his messy fringe he saw a canopy above him. Pretty. Like a Kings bed. 

Hot air bloomed across his upper thigh very close to his testicles and Sherlock wiggled a bit. He moaned acquiescence and the mouth on his thigh chuckled.

Sherlock barely registered a thump which shook the bed but the sudden disappearance of the mouth on him made its way through his drowsy head. He whimpered at its loss and turned his head to the side. 

John was there. Sherlock was glad to see him.

"John." he smiled, but John seemed distracted.

"You have something of mine." John growled. At first Sherlock thought John was talking to him, but then he noticed the other man in the room. 

"Watson, how nice of you to come." the man said, but Sherlock suspected sarcasm.

"Jim. Have not seen you since Tikrit."

"How IS the scar John? Still stinging like a motherfucker?"

"Sherlock is mine." John announced and Sherlock smiled sleepily. How lovely to hear those words from John, so handsome in his leather-jacket, shirtless state and smeared black lipstick.

"Oh John, I admire your forthrightness, but the Bait here was leaving the club. He is a free agent, and he came quite willingly with me." Jim announced.

Sherlock shook his head but he was dizzy, and confused. No no, he wanted John, not this guy....

"Is that why you Glamoured Jim?" John asked. "You could pull his fingernails out under Glamour and he would let you."

"Semantics, Watson. Now leave." Jim sniffed haughtily.

"Jim....that's just not going to happen." 

The other vampire hissed and launched himself at John. John hissed too, pushed his teeth out and leaped high into the air. Both vamps met over the middle of the room with a resounding thump and clawed viciously at each other.

"Oh...." Sherlock whispered. "No, don't do that..." but he was unsure why he should stop them.

Johns hands hooked into the leather jacket of his opponent and he tore at it. Jim roared as his skin came away too. He spun on his heel and landed on the window sil, where he crouched, fangs bared, face white and veiny.

"You fight dirty, bitch!" Jim hissed, "Just like in Afghanistan!" and then he dropped from sight into the night. John roared angrily but let the vamp go. He wiped the blood and skin from his hands onto the curtain and turned to Sherlock, still splayed out obscenely on the bed. John crossed to him in the blink of an eye.

A quick once over proved Sherlock had not been hurt but was well under the influence of a Vampire Glamour. This meant Sherlock was essentially prey that could not fight back. This both thrilled and repelled John. Thrilled him because he wanted Sherlock so very badly, repelled him because the detective was in no way able to say yes or no to what John wanted.

God this man was beautiful and hard to resist. John was almost shaking with need. Tonight was going to be the night he tasted Sherlock for the first time. He was going to take him to his own bedroom at Baker street, tell him what to expect, and then, with Sherlocks permission, taste from that glorious throat and be in Vampire Heaven.

But Jim had gone and used a Glamour, the prick! So now John would care for Sherlock until the glamour wore off. That could take hours. Sometimes a day. 

"Come on Sherlock, let's go home." John sighed, snapping his teeth back into his pallet and crouching over his flatmate. He slid one arm under the crook of the mans lanky legs and another under the thin shoulders. Sherlocks eyes looked deeply into Johns, the colour a strange silver in the half moon through the window.

"John...." 

John paused. That baritone was already devastating. Adding the lusty tone from a good Glamour and Johns head spun. He swallowed.

"Yes, Sherlock?" he whispered, pausing from taking the compliant man into his arms.

"I hurt."

"Where?" John asked quickly. Had he missed anything?

"Here...." Sherlock whispered, and tilted his head back over Johns arm, fluttering his eyes closed and sliding one long fingered hand over the perfect white column of his neck.

All breath left Johns lungs and his heart pounded in his ears. Sherlock was practically mapping the luscious artery just under his alabaster skin, asking John to try, just a taste, just a lick, a tiny nip....

John groaned and Sherlock shivered.

"Please...." he whispered, now sending his hand down past his throat and into his half undone shirt. "Bite me John."

"I can't." John whispered, resolve hanging barely by a thread.

"John...I need this, I need you..."

"Christ you..." John shook his head. When had he ever EVER had a dinner that begged him so pretty and looked like this marble angel in his arms? All it would take...

John leaned forward, sniffing at the sweetness that was Sherlocks blood.

All it would take...

Johns teeth snapped out...

Just...

He dipped his head...

One...

His tongue licked his own lips...

Bite...

Sherlock moaned and Johns resolve cracked.

#


	9. DID YOU SUCK ME?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, Greg has some questions....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, this is gonna get angsty!

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER NINE

DID YOU SUCK ME?

When John was human he had morals and ethics. This did not change when he became a Vampire, but his drives were different. Well, when ones food and drink were all tied up with base sexual urges ones drives were bound to be different.

So when Sherlock began to convulse at the mere touch of Johns teeth, the vampire pulled away as if burned. Sherlocks eyes rolled back in his head and he began to jerk spasmodically.

"Sherlock? Shit!" John dropped Sherlock gently to the floor and turned him on his side. Sherlocks hair flopped and his arms curled into claws. John recognised the seizure for what it was, a reaction to Jim's Glamour. So, Jim had hurried the Glamour without taking due care. That was the only reason a usually non-seizing human reacted like this. 

Sherlock jerked for a minute more before moaning and flopping bonelessly to the carpet.

John gently picked the unconscious man up into his arms and flew out the window with him. He circled the building once to get his bearings, as he had followed Sherlocks by scent to find him and had paid no attention to where he ended up. 

The blonde vampire got his bearings and flew off towards Baker Street.

When they arrived John deposited Sherlock on his own bed and felt for his pulse. Strong. John shivered. Nice strong pulse that should have been pumping mouthfuls of Sherlocks delicious blood down his throat right now.

John sighed.

Another night then.

A voice suddenly came from the front doorway.

"John? Sherlock? You in?"

Shit, it was Lestrade! John closed the door to Sherlocks room and met the Detective Inspector in the lounge room.

"Greg." John smiled.

Gregs eyes bugged and John remembered too late his leather and lipstick attire. 

"John, you look..."

"Debauched? I had a rough night." Johns eyes crinkled as he grinned.

Greg stepped closer, smiling. The thrall had obviously not quite worn off, despite it being days. But then, there was the whole shirtless state of John, which was distracting in itself.

"Debauched, John? Very nice...." Greg reached for Johns arm and held it in his strong fingers. 

"Did you want something, Greg?" John asked softly, gently peeling Greg's fingers from him.

"Oh...ah, I wanted to ask Sherlock about his brother. But if he's not here I can come back later...." he looked to John hopefully.

"What's happened to Mycroft?" John asked, gently steering Lestrade to the sofa.

"Oh, he seems very happy lately. It's weird. He's very smiley and things...don't you think that's strange John?"

"Ah...yes...very un-Mycroft." John said. "When did you see him last?"

"We had dinner tonight." 

John raised his eyebrows and Greg went a bit pink.

"I see..." John said. "Did he mention....me?"

"Should he have?"

"No no..." John said. Mycroft's mind was almost as strong as Sherlocks so John figured he would eventually remember that John was a vampire. Hopefully, due to being involved in the politics of Vamp Integration, he would not have a hissy and try to damage John permanently. He went on in an assuring way. "This...thing..that Mycroft is going through...give it time, enjoy it. Greg...do you love him?"

"I do. I really do John." Greg smiled. John kinda wished he had known all this before he Thralled Greg and sucked a half litre of his blood, not to mention tore Mycrofts jugular apart, but hey, he was a vampire and both Greg and Mycroft were tasty. And the thrall would wear off permanently soon. Unlike the glamour Sherlock was under.

As if on cue Sherlock moaned. 

"Johhhnnn....."

"Oh, Sherlocks here?" Greg asked.

"Yeah. But he's not well." John said, trying to sound normal.

"What's up with him? Should I let Myc know?"

"No, it's okay-"

And it would have been too, had Sherlock not staggered out of the bedroom, shirt half undone, hair a rats nest of riotous curls, eyes wide.

"John, you left me, did you suck me?" He demanded, voice slurred.

"Jesus!" Greg snorted. "Good one John!" 

John, mortified but grateful for Greg's filthy mind, leaped to his feet.

"Sherlock, are you okay, perhaps you should still rest?" he suggested quickly.

"Greg's here!" Sherlock cried then "Did you suck him again John?"

"Sherlock, let's get you back to bed..." John tried to shuffle the staggering Sherlock back to his room but he was proving to be extraordinarily stubborn.

"You did, you sucked him again!"

"John, what does he mean...again?" Greg got to his feet and looked askance at John.

"He took you in the alley, after drinks, you must remember!" Sherlock told him, deftly avoiding Johns arms.

"Sherlock..." John moaned in mortification.

"John?" Greg looked to John with confused eyes. "What have you been telling Sherlock? And why? Do you...are you...interested in me? I thought you were straight..."

"Oh don't be obtuse Lestrade, he only loves you for your blood." Sherlock spat.

The light dawned and Greg reacted.

"Holy...HOLY FUCK!" He scrambled away from John and slammed his back into a wall. 

"Oh Christ on a cream cracker " John moaned, slumping his shoulders and letting Sherlock past.

Sherlock crossed to a petrified Greg and began to jealously search him for bite marks. 

"HOLY FUCKING FUCK!" Greg squeaked, passively allowing his wrist to be closely searched by a lanky consulting detective as his terrified eyes were only on John.

"John....FUCKING Watson! You are a fucking VAMPIRE!!!!"

John moaned into his hands. What else could he do? Sherlock had outed him and now...the shit was well and truly on a graceful arc to the fan.

Sherlock looked up at Greg.

"Of course John is a vampire, want did you think he was?"

Greg's terrified eyes did not even flick to Sherlock.

"I thought he was human!" he hissed. "John....is it true? Are you a vamp? And did you...suck my blood?"

John looked up reluctantly. He paused and nodded. Greg gasped in a breath.

"You fucking freak of nature!" He roared, pushing Sherlock aside and swinging at John. John hissed and leaped into the air, sailing over Greg and landing light as a cat on the other side of him.

"Calm down Greg, I've been like this the whole time you have known me!" John cried desperately.

"I didn't give you permission to suck my blood!"

"He doesn't have to ask for permission! You think Mycroft would deign to beg for John to suck him?" Sherlock snapped, nose wrinkled.

"MYCROFT!!?? MY MYCROFT!!??" Greg squeaked in falsetto, and took another furious, fist swinging run at John.

"Sherlock, stop helping!" John cried, once again leaping over Greg, almost faster than a human eye could see. 

"You touched my Mycroft??" Greg was bright red with anger. John didn't blame him.This was not going at all well. 

"He was hurting Sherlock, I just reacted!" John told him from behind the couch which he was using as a shield against the furious DI.

"Whats the problem Lestrade? He's not dead, and neither are you!" Sherlock asked.

"What's the problem????" Greg roared, spinning to face Sherlock. "Ever since the vamps came out of the coffin I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. How can such filthy creatures suddenly make themselves known and expect us to just say okay? And John.." Greg turned back "I trusted you! And now I find out you're ONE OF THEM? And you have taken MY BLOOD? Jesus fucking fucksticks that is FUCKED UP!"

All of a sudden a freezing whirlwind entered the room. Papers and books flew, and chairs tipped over. When the dust settled John saw his nemesis, Jim, standing in the room.

"I can hear this little domestic clear to Big Ben." he said, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Jim, not now!" John snapped.

"Oh I think now, Johhny-boy. I very much think now. I was prepared to wait but until Sherlock was better but this palaver has rather changed my mind."

"Are you another one of Johns dead mates?" Greg asked, still red with anger.

"Who are you, insect?" Jim asked calmly.

"Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, New Scotland Yard." Greg said through gritted teeth.

"Well, detective, I was never Johns friend but...let us just say, we have...history..." Jim smiled at John.

"God dammit, another filthy vampire!!!" Greg spat angrily, causing Jims eyes to turn and fix on the mans face.

"Greg, no!" John screamed, but it was too late. In three strides Jim had crossed to the silver haired detective and used his claws to rip open Greg's neck. Blood flew and the detective collapsed, gurgling, to the ground, his life spurting onto the carpet before anyone could react.

"No!" Sherlock screamed just as a black leather blur smashed into Jim and both vampires flew out of the window, howling, and into the night.

Sherlock dropped to his knees beside Greg but it was already too late.

#


	10. THROUGH EVERY SEASON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really, what option do they have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love yews all

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER TEN

THROUGH EVERY SEASON

It was no more than 30 seconds later that John returned, flew in through the window and landed at a run, fangs out and covered in Jims blood. 

In that time Sherlock, still dazed from the Glamour-Seizure and shock at what had happened to Greg, had gathered the dying detective to him and brought out his phone. It was loosely held in his palm, smeared with Greg's blood. John saw the words "Mycroft Greg is hurt 221b" on the sticky screen, but it was unsent.

John crouched beside Sherlock and the rapidly blanching detective. He could sense Greg was still alive, but only just, and not for much longer.

"Sherlock..."

"John, he's gone." Sherlock whispered. "How do I tell Mycroft?"

John was once again surprised that Sherlock knew such things as "Greg and Mycroft liked each other" but he was known for his reasoning genius. Of course he knew. And, despite the constant bickering, they were brothers. They cared about each other.

"Sherlock..." John tried again, reaching for Greg's cooling body. "I can save him."

"He wouldn't want that." Sherlock said quietly. "He hated vampires...."

"I know love, but it's the only way to save him." John tried to reason with Sherlock. "We don't have much time."

"John..." Sherlock choked out, and John realised the poor man could barely think. John gently took the phone from Sherlock, added to the txt what he could do for Greg, and pressed send. Mycroft held final say. He was Greg's beloved.

Not two seconds later came the answer.

"Do it. Now. On my way. Do not wait."

John removed Greg from Sherlock forcibly, despite Sherlocks weak protests. Truth was, John wanted to save Greg just as much as Mycroft did. At least with John as his Sire Greg could be introduced to the vamp lifestyle with grace and care. This had happened to John once San Simeon had charged in stopped Jim and his coven from creating a monster in the sands of Afghanistan.

John took his own fangs to his wrists and tore a gash there which he then pushed against Greg's slack mouth.

"Drink please Greg, please...."

Seconds ticked by. 

Greg did not move. 

Then some primitive brain function fired and he suddenly clamped his lips to the font that was Johns wrist and sucked for all he was worth. John murmured comforting words and Sherlock sobbed. There was nothing else to do. If Greg was to still be here, on this planet, he needed to be completely changed.

Finally John pulled his arm away. Greg's bright red tongue reached for more but John lick-sealed his own wrist and then soothed Greg with a gentle hand to his face. Greg panted as if he had run through London after a criminal but his eyes were vacant. 

Sherlock put his hand to his mouth to stop his sobs from escaping. It was done, and The Devil help them now.

When Mycroft arrived he was actually running. John had never seen Mycroft run before. And he was a mess, dishevelled and tieless....and no waistcoat or umbrella. He fell to his knees beside Greg and John.

"He's alive?" he demanded.

John nodded. Greg was trembling in his arms, staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling but seeing nothing.

"He didn't want this!" Sherlock sobbed at his brother.

"He was dying Sherlock!" Mycroft snapped back.

"I am so sorry Mycroft." John said softly then.

Mycroft finally took in Johns appearance. Leather clad, covered in Jim's and Greg's blood, eyes red and fangs pointed and white against his blood-soaked bottom lip. 

"John....thank you." The auburn haired man said, eyes earnest. "Thank you. Without Greg..."

"He's a monster now Mycroft, he hates vampires, he will detest you!" Sherlock said wetly, still crying.

"I know Sherlock...I know...." Mycroft said, and took Greg into his arms. "What happens now John?"

"In a while he will start to convulse. I will need to take him somewhere dark. Feed him from me a few more times."

"How long?"

"Four days."

Mycroft nodded.

"Is that how it was for you John? Where you turned without permission? Did you die screaming?" Sherlock spat at John. John turned his eyes to Sherlock, aware how otherworldly they appeared to Sherlock but not caring. Why guard his true nature now?

"At first yes." John answered Sherlock. "Jim and his mates were rough. But I was saved by a brave older vampire and he salvaged my remaining humanness. I can do the same to Greg."

Sherlock stared at John, disgust in his eyes.

"Not what you thought is it Sherlock?" John said gently. "It's not all sucking down ambrosia and hard heady sex."

Sherlock stood to his feet, turned his back, and stalked to his room.

Greg began to shake and John reluctantly took him from Mycroft.

"I'll bring him back in four days. To your house. He will need to be with you..."

Mycroft nodded as John stood, heaving Greg up with him.

"The vampire that did this to him...." Mycroft asked then, still on his knees.

John snapped his teeth back into his pallet. He didn't need them now, had quite forgotten they were out.

"Dead." He told Mycroft. "Ashes."

Mycroft nodded.

"Good."

"Look after Sherlock. And thank you."

"John, you are by far the nicest vampire I have ever met."

"Thanks, I guess. I mean....thanks...." John hadn't the heart to tell him about that one time he ripped Mycroft apart....although Mycroft probably already knew. "And please, let Sherlock recover here. No drugs and doctors. He will be fine left to himself for a while..."

Mycroft nodded his promise.

John turned and once again, leaped from a window into the night.

Mycroft put his face into his hands and wept.

#


	11. KISS WITH A FIST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg learns what it means for him to be so powerful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg, sitting In a tree...

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER ELEVEN 

KISS WITH A FIST

Lestrade spent the first day sleeping and snacking on John. He was barely aware of where he was and what he was doing.

John had sequestered the two of them in what had been a gunpowder storage basement at the bottom of the White Tower in London. San Simeon had shown him the place as a precaution when they had returned to England and got wind that the Vampire Council were thinking of coming out to humans. It was dry and dark and had a cot in it that Greg could sleep on. John stayed awake, reading by a weak lamp on a crooked desk or just watching Greg sleep.

The detective finally became aware of himself late that afternoon. John had just come back from fetching clean clothes for them both. A nice warm jumper and means were much more comfy than leather trousers and jacket.

"John..." the brown eyed detective croaked. "Please tell me you didn't..."

"I..." John said, and then nodded.

"How could you do this to me John? If I was stronger I would kill myself!" Greg sobbed. "I'm a monster! A MONSTER!!"

"I know mate, I know, but if I hadn't you would be dead..." John murmured

He did not mention Mycrofts involvement in Greg's transformation then.

Greg spent most of the second day angry and crying.

He refused to eat from John but it was okay now. He was well and truly Turned. He would not need to feed as often now. 

But by that afternoon Greg could see in the dark, hear insects walking, and smell cakes from a market down the road.

"This....this is amazing...is it always like this?" he whispered, hugging himself and smiling...smiling!

"I hardly remember what it was like to wander this world with all my senses dulled and human." John said.

"It's...it's glorious..." Greg whispered. "All the good I could do now I am so...  
damn...STRONG!"

The third day he demanded and was told everything he needed to know about being a vampire. Everything John had been told, and everything he had experienced. The rules that governed this subculture and the punishments for disobedience.

"The vampire that did this, Jim. What is his story?"

"He and his coven were the ones who tried to Turn me. I was saved in time by my Sire. He has always been...fond of me, in a sick way. Obsessed with what he termed the 'one that got away'." John used air quotes. "I followed him, after he clawed your throat out, and..."

"You killed him?"

John nodded.

"Thank you..."

The fourth day Greg just wanted Mycroft.

"I need him John, I want him...will he still love me as this?" Greg motioned to his body, his glorious, healthy, slightly pale vampire body.

"Greg...believe me when I tell you...Mycroft would have you any way but dead."

"John...." Greg said, turning to look at his good friend and now Sire "Mycroft...?"

"You were almost dead. He saw a chance and he took it....and I...didn't refuse." John tried to look at his friend and now Childe but was still slightly ashamed. "I would do it again if I had to Greg. I'm a doctor. I could not sit by and do nothing when there was a chance..."

Greg's face went dead. His eyes glowed red in the dark. John would have been terrified were he not three times as scary.

"Mycroft said....to do this?" Greg whispered.

John nodded.

"Sherlock tried to stop him...and me." John said. "But he is only human."

"John....take me to him, please."

"What are you-"

"I am not going to hurt him." Greg shook his head. "I think...I am going to fuck him ten ways from Sunday and maybe suck his neck a little...but not going to hurt him.."

John barked out a laugh.

"Stay confident." He said. "Bloody Holmes men are so unpredictable!"

"Yeah...yeah they are, that's part of their charm..."

John could not agree more.

#

Greg was not able to fly by the time the two left the White Tower late afternoon on the forth day so John carried Greg to Mycrofts. 

"My hero!" Greg smiled up at John who snorted.

"Yeah well, this is a one time thing. Soon you will be able to do this yourself."

Mycroft was up on the balcony waiting.

"Gregory...."

"Mycroft...."

"I...have been told it was you who...insisted..." Greg said softly.

"It was. I cannot...do without you...it was selfish I know but..."

Greg crossed and took the taller man into his arms.

"I was ignorant. I am sorry for the things I said but...I think I can make it work for me. I am stronger than I was and in my line of work...I can do so much more good!" Greg explained, and smiled. "Damn Mycroft, you smell....so..."

"Holmes blood." Mycroft smiled, and John closed his eyes, nodding, remembering the warm splash of Mycrofts delicious blood as it poured into his throat. Greg did not notice, which was good, because John had not mentioned anything about how he had revealed himself to Mycroft. 

 

"John...thank you..." Mycroft said to John, without taking his eyes off Greg. "I am glad that it was you who Turned him. I could not trust him with anyone else."

"I am glad it was me to." John said honestly, because he knew he really WAS the nicest vampire they had ever met. Even San Simeon was a bit feral, and he had helped mould John in his infancy.

"How is...how is your brother?" John asked Mycroft then, before the man became mesmerised. I mean really, how long could you look into your vampire lovers eyes and not go all coo coo for coco puffs?

"Sherlock is angry of course."

John nodded.

"Angry?" Greg snorted. "Try jealous..."

Mycroft agreed.

"That to...."

"Jealous?" John looked up to see two sets of eyes on him.

"John, don't be obtuse, the man is in love with you." Mycroft said.

"And you have sucked everyone but him." Greg added.

"Not everyone!" John protested.

"Yes, John, not everyone....but not him." Mycroft said wisely.

John swallowed.

"So...I should go see him...um....will you two be..."

"Oh John, I have a feeling we will be fine." Mycroft said, looking back into Greg's eyes. Greg was smiling and not at all conflicted. Now he was a powerful vampire the whole of London was his to beat into shape.

"Right, so, I'll go then..." John said, and then added "Oh, right...." because Greg had claimed Mycrofts mouth and they were snogging like teenagers.

They barely even registered the cold wind of Johns leaving.

John flew straight to Baker street, but walked up the stairs like a human. It was just gone dusk and he could hear Sherlock sawing on his violin. It was a comforting sound. It meant, at least, that Sherlock was not sulking.

"John, you're back."

"I am."

"Good." Sherlock turned and pointed his bow at his jumper wearing blogger. "Now get out."

"What?"

Sherlock stalked to him.

"Get out of your room, get out of my house....get out of my life!"

The bow came to rest over Johns heart.

"Sherlock...you mean that? Really?"

Sherlock raised the bow over his head like a sword.

"Yes!" he hissed, and swung...

#


	12. STINGS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly, foolish human!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought you all should know, I came second in a Best Dressed competition at a Dr Who thing last night. I went as an Ood Sigma. I am feeling pretty darn awesome aboot it.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER TWELVE

STINGS

The bow whipped across Johns cheek, tearing at his skin and leaving a trail of blood that welled and began to drip. John hissed and his eyes went vampire red. His fangs flicked out automatically but he didn't move. He stood stock still, not even shaking.

Sherlock, once he had seen what he had done, took three big steps back, crashing against a wall and staring at John in shock. He couldn't believe he had actually struck John. Deliberately. Admittedly not with any thought for the consequences, but it was a deliberate act.

John pressed his hand to his cheek, looked at the blood on his fingers and growled low in his throat. Sherlock had HIT him! 

The sight of the blood made John angry. He leaped over to Sherlock and rammed his forearm into the taller mans throat. Sherlock dropped his expensive violin and the bloodied bow to the ground as he was slammed against the wall. The back of his smacked into the wallpaper and he rolled his eyes in fear at the preternatural creature that had him bailed up by the neck.

"John, I'm sorry!" he said, voice rough with fear.

"Why did you attack me you prat! I'm a vampire!" John snapped, snarling his lip.

"You're a doctor!"

"I have bad days!"

"Don't kill me!" Sherlock begged, arms up in a surrender gesture.

John growled again, fighting his nature to tear and rip and shred and drink.

"Why Sherlock? Why did you hit me? Demanding I leave was enough! I would have gone. I still may, if you are serious."

"I...I don't know, I was upset!" Sherlock explained desperately.

"Look at this Sherlock, you CUT me!" John indicated his cheek. His vampire blood was already hard at work however.

"Uh...well...it's healing..." Sherlock said, looking slightly ashamed.

"No matter, you intended to wound me. Am I such a pushover that even as a vampire you would assault me and expect nothing in return?"

"No, I was simply...can you ease up on my throat?" 

John eased back only a little. Sherlock coughed.

"You were self indulgent Sherlock as always. It's not about YOU all the time! I had to help Greg because I was the only vampire around, and the only one Mycroft trusted. I wanted to take you that night at the Vamp club but you ran away, straight into Jim's arms. You either want me, like this, or you want me to go. Make up your mind Sherlock. Right now!"

John pushed away and sat on his chair in the blink of an eye. He adopted Sherlocks famous tented finger pose as homage, or maybe mocking the detective, he neither knew nor cared.

Sherlock rubbed his throat gently, staring at John. He looked pale in this light, fangs still put, eyes still red. It was deliberate of course. John was showing Sherlock exactly what he was.

"It can be nice I am told. To be taken by a vampire." Sherlock said softly.

"It can be." John agreed shortly.

"But I saw you tear into Mycroft and I saw Jim rip Greg apart." Sherlocks voice was shaky.

"We are preternatural creatures Sherlock. Very connected to our reptile brains. But...with you...I had planned to make it awesome." John stated.

"I don't know if I want to now. Seeing you so...veiny, taking Mycroft like that...it was feral, primal...monstrous..." Sherlock was whispering now, eyes as wide as they could go. He was frightened of course, but also very aroused and both these feelings set of a conflict in his massive brain. His cock, however, was filled and hard in his trousers. He wanted to rub it, just to ease the ache, but he was afraid once he started he would not stop, would drop to his knees and fuck his own fist till he came, begging, at Johns feet.

"I understand. It's not all romance and velvet." John said, running his tongue over his fangs. Sherlock shivered. This was John, his blogger, his kitten in a jumper, gone savage. It was terrifyingly wonderful.

"I..." Sherlock swallowed. "I'm..."

"You want me." John stated.

Sherlock slid down the wall and landed next to his violin. He put his head in his hands and nodded.

"God help me I do..."

"All of me, or just vampire me?" John asked.

"I have been interested in you since the day you came to St Bartholomew's, in that ridiculous jacket of yours, when Mike said you were looking for a flatmate, I had already agreed with myself that you would do...." Sherlock said into his hands. Then he looked up, wrapping his arms around his legs. "John, I don't do relationships...not usually, but you are...amazing."

"Sherlock, what do you want?"

Sherlock shivered.

"You." he whispered.

John launched from his chair, swept Sherlock off the ground and flew to the detectives room with him. He stood them both in front of Sherlocks mirror, him behind, Sherlock in front. He nestled in behind the detective, one strong arm around his chest, and brought his chin to Sherlocks shoulder.

"Look at you Sherlock...you're terrified." John whispered into the detectives ear, hot breath caressing him. Sherlock trembled and yes, he could see his own frightened eyes, pale face and elevated heart rate. He WAS scared. But it felt wonderful!

"John...." 

"You think I like making you feel afraid?" John whispered again, resting his teeth on Sherlocks shoulder, just where the shirt met the warmth of his skin. He looked up at Sherlock in the mirror, eyes still unnaturally red. "You think I like how you look at me with such fear?"

"Yes." Sherlock whispered back, eyes on Johns in the mirror.

"No." John said. "No. I like you to look at me with confusion, or admiration, or pity because I once again cannot think as fast as you."

"But I like being afraid of you." Sherlock told him, voice still a mere rough whisper.

"Why?"

"It's a feeling I never get. Nothing but you scares me this much...." He closed his eyes and swallowed "....and Christ I love it...."

"Silly human." John sighed, and fisted his hand into Sherlocks beautiful silky hair. Sherlock whimpered a tiny bit as John pulled his head sideways, opening up that beautiful neck to him, pounding with delicious blood and fear and want. 

John licked his way up this glorious column of very human skin until he got to the place where Sherlocks artery was closest to the skin, welling and swelling, pounding strongly, singing to the deepest vampiric part of John.

"John..." Sherlocks voice was like a prayer. Hs eyes closed and he relaxed, arms loose, body pressing back against John, who held him as if he were no more than a doll.

"You want this...." John stated, lips and just the tiniest prick of his teeth stinging Sherlocks neck in a gentle, loving, kiss.

"Oh God John yes..." Sherlock moaned, tipping his head back onto Johns shoulder, his whole body screaming TAKE ME!

John kissed him again.

"Silly foolish human..." he hummed into Sherlocks neck, drew his lips back, and bit...

#


	13. YOU SUCK!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally finally finally Vampire John gets mouthfuls of Sherlock!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....geghgh! Hnnnghghhhh!...
> 
> That is all.

COMING OUT OF THE COFFIN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

YOU SUCK!

As expected, the first forceful splash of Sherlocks blood on Johns tongue was sweet and rich like salted caramel. Johns eyes rolled back in his skull and he moaned low and deep into Sherlocks neck, taking his time with that first long pull.

Sherlock responded with a moan of his own, eyes half lidded in a kind of dizzy lust. He ran the heel of his hand down his own throbbing cock and trembled as waves of selfish need swept over him. John forcefully removed his hand. That cock was his now. Sherlock lost ownership the second John pierced his skin.

Sherlock responded by moaning again, moving his hands up to the back of Johns head and PUSHING the vampire deeper into his neck. John gave another long pull on that sweet vein before heaving his head back, and licking the holes closed.

Sherlocks arms dropped like noodles to his side and he became completely pliant, leaning into John as the vampire licked and kissed his shoulder. Johns hand trailed down Sherlocks front, undoing the buttons of his shirt with one deft hand. He pushed that hand inside and ran his palm down the planes of Sherlocks chest and stomach, playing idly with one of Sherlock nipples. The other hand slid around and cupped the taller mans cock. Sherlock made a lovely deep sound and pushed his hips forward, rutting against Johns hands.

"Suck me again John, please..." he begged.

"I can't take too much."

"But....it feels soooo goood..."

"I know love..."

John spun his flatmate and pushed him onto the bed. Sherlock fell like a doll and happily allowed John to tear his trousers and pants off, leaving him half naked, hard and leaking, shirt open, nipples budding in the cold air.

John licked his way up Sherlocks inner thigh and Sherlock arched a little, opening his thighs. 

"Yessss..." he sighed, still half loopy with lust. 

John nuzzled the beautiful artery in Sherlocks groin and then bit and sucked. Again, the ambrosia of Sherlocks blood burst against his tongue and he moaned and sucked another lovely long draft.

"Oh God John yes...yes!" Sherlock hissed, thrashing his head from side to side and arching his back slightly, forcing his meaty thigh into Johns mouth.

John again only took one mouthful of Sherlock delectable blood before once again licking the holes closed. By then Sherlock was whimpering and begging, but still unable to move. John slithered up his long lean body, trailing kisses to whatever patch of skin delighted him in that particular second. Sherlock arched to chase Johns lips, and sighed in happiness and bliss. 

"More...please John..." 

"Not too much Sherlock, I told you." John whispered and kissed Sherlocks throat. Sherlock threw his head back, baring himself so John could access all of that long column of neck. It was delicious to have someone so eager. John hummed happily into the skin just below Sherlocks ear and Sherlocks whole body shivered in delight.

John slid his hands up Sherlocks arms and wrapped his hands around the detectives wrists, pinning him to the bed. He didn't need to. Sherlock would do anything he asked. But it made John feel good to exert that much power over the writhing body below him. He could literally do anything, anything at all, to Sherlock right now and Sherlock would not only allow it but willingly beg. It was enough to make John the hardest he had ever been.

He slowly rutted his cock against Sherlocks own hard prick and the sound Sherlock made was positively pornographic. John smiled, then used his fangs to nick a line on Sherlocks pectoral. Then he used his wickedly pointed tongue to lap at the blood there and Sherlock writhed.

"Sooooo delicious." John whispered. "You taste so good Sherlock..."

All Sherlock said was "...ngn..."

John laid his full body on top of Sherlock, pushed the sleeve of the taller mans shirt up, and licked his way along the delicious veins of his arm. They were like a road map of lusciousness and John was happy to follow them. When he got to the pale, soft wrist he once again bit, causing Sherlock to whimper, and then took another delicious mouthful of Sherlocks ruby red blood.

The long draw out "Johhhhhnnnnn!" that fell from Sherlocks parted lips was low and gorgeous, and John pushed his hips into the man in response. Sherlock gasped and pushed back, his cock aching for release.

John licked the holes on Sherlocks wrist closed and made his way slowly back down the wonderful skin of Sherlocks chest and abdomen. When he finally got to Sherlocks rock hard cock he used his tongue to lap at the pre come welling at the very tip. Sherlock sobbed and begged but all John did was wiggle the very tiniest tip of his tongue inside the slit. 

"Please John, more, oh god just...please!"

John laughed at Sherlocks distress and it only turned Sherlock on more. 

"John, for the love of God, suck me!"

John used his fangs again on the skin of Sherlock Holmes, only this time he lashed at the frenulum. Blood and pre come mixed and dribbled down Sherlocks throbbing cock. John made a deep sound in his own throat and latched onto Sherlocks cock, sucking the whole length down his throat in one long pull.

Sherlock positively screamed as his cock was engulfed. His eyes flew open and he stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing but stars.

"...argck!" he exclaimed intelligently, and then John was sucking him with hollowed cheek suction that sent the detective wild. He thrust up into that sharp fanged mouth, feeling johns teeth tearing at the delicate skin of his cock and not caring.

John tasted blood and Sherlock and pre come and his very base vampire brain took over. He sped up to an unnatural pace, sucking back with every upsweep and gouging Sherlocks cock every time he shoved his mouth back down. Sherlocks shaft responded by swelling and suddenly the poor man was screaming, hands in Johns hair, bowed up like an arsenic victim, and coming in great long hot spurts down his vampire lovers throat.

John sucked the heady mix of come and blood and thought he had died once again. To have that perfect blood from that perfect cock pouring down his throat did his head in and he was moaning and coming in his pants like a teenager. He was unaware of the preternatural growling sounds he was making but Sherlock heard and his vision swam.

"Oh Christ oh Christ oh Christ..." the detective panted, heartbeat thrumming is his ears. Finally, he fell back, spent and panting. John released the poor boys cock, licked the gouges closed and slithered up Sherlocks long, hot body.

"The fuck..?" Sherlock asked intelligently.

"I told you the sex is phenomenal."

"Vampire John.....you are awesome in bed...."

"Sherlock don't be obtuse." John said, using Sherlocks own insult back at him. "Even as a human I was a fantastic fuck."

"I bet..." Sherlock nodded sleepily. "Vamp powers just increased your sexual prow-" and the poor boy fell into a deep sleep. John chuckled. He had burst his Consulting Detective!

He kissed the beautiful slack lips of Sherlock Holmes.

"No you stupid human boy, I merely found my perfect mate..."

#


End file.
